Stay With Me
by Bucken-Cub
Summary: After an undercover mission gone wrong, Olivia arrives at George's front door with a severely injured Elliot. Can George save him? A collaboration between Bucken-Berry and Lycan-Cub, oh snap!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If Lycan-Cub and Bucken-Berry owned the show, do you reeeeeally think it wouldn't be obvious that Elliot and George love each other?

A loud yawn escaped George as he relaxed on his sofa. He stretched leisurely, allowing his body to unwind from the long day. They had a heavier caseload than usual, and the fact that Elliot and Olivia were currently undercover didn't help. While they weren't profilers, they still understood easier than the rookie detectives that had been called in to replace them until they came back. He hadn't even needed to turn around to see Fin and Munch rolling their eyes at the countless stupid questions the new recruits asked George.

He sighed softly and took a sip of wine, thinking about Elliot and Olivia's undercover assignment. They had gone undercover to bust a child trafficking ring; with George's help, they had each faked a persona that had convinced the leaders that they were the real deal. Currently the two were recording the leader's conversations about who they were going to sell the children to, and where they were going to move them next.

George shuddered lightly at the thought. Very few things could disturb him, but children being harmed and sold like property...

Shaking the thought out of his head, he drank more wine and wondered what Elliot was doing right about now. He was probably returning to the temporary apartment, George thought, looking at the clock. He hoped Elliot was being careful- no, he hoped _they _were being careful. Elliot _and _Olivia, because both of them were in danger; both of them were risking everything by being there. But it was hard to divert his thoughts from Elliot, these days.

He wasn't sure when or how he'd fallen for the detective, but he had, and his mind showed no signs of letting him move on and forget about it any time soon. Multiple times every day, he'd find himself wondering what Elliot was doing, where he was, if he was okay. He didn't like to admit any weaknesses within himself, yet it was becoming abundantly clear that Elliot was his weakness, and George was falling hard for him. His mind's protests that Elliot was straight, and thus any feelings of love were going to be unrequited, were promptly ignored by his heart. So, for the first time in his life, George gave up on rationality and continued to hope that Elliot did care, like some shrinking violet schoolgirl who hoped the captain of the football team would take notice on her.

He glanced at the clock again. Elliot- and Olivia, he reminded himself irritatedly- would be checking in any moment. George, being with the FBI, had been assigned as Olivia and Elliot's case agent, which meant he was the only one allowed to have contact with them.

Sighing softly, he set his wine glass down and reclined against the armrest. He allowed the stress he'd accumulated over the long day to gradually drain away, and eventually he felt relaxed enough to try to sleep. If Elliot and Olivia ever decided to call, that is, he thought with a slight scowl.

Ten more minutes passed with no word from the detectives. Worry began to seep into him, his heart rate increasing slightly as he wondered what might be going on. But he forced himself to think of any explanation but the worst one. The traffickers had forced them to stay late. Their car was broken. They had decided to go to the grocery store and time had simply slipped them by.

When another half hour went by without a word, however, the worry turned into full-blown panic, a cold dread that gripped his stomach like an icy fist, and turned his blood cold. He inhaled deeply, trying to soothe his nerves, but he couldn't. Something was terribly wrong- he could feel it.

His hands began to tremble as he stood and retreived his phone. He was supposed to wait for them to contact him first, but he figured the situation justified it. If not, it would still be worth getting yelled at and lectured on maintaining cover, if it mean he would have his panic assuaged.

He dialed Elliot's number and pressed call, but it went to the answering machine immediately. Swallowing visibly, he waited for the answering machine to beep and said, "Elliot, it's George. I know it's against protocol, but I need someone to call me and say if you and Olivia are okay- you were supposed to check in almost an hour ago."

Then he hung up and called Olivia's phone, only to once again get the answering machine. He didn't bother leaving a message this time- he just hung up and started to walk around the living room restlessly.

He jumped and almost shouted when several loud, rapid knocks sounded on the apartment's front door. He froze for a moment before he heard Olivia shouting, "George, it's Olivia. Come on, Elliot and I need help!"

"Coming, Liv, hold on!" George called back, sprinting towards the door. He began to open it, asking, "What's going-"

He blinked in shock when he caught sight of them. Olivia was supporting a semi-conscious Elliot, who's t-shirt was covered in a rapidly-growing bloodstain. He was drenched in sweat- his body's reaction to the trauma and agonizing pain he had to be in- and his skin was deathly pale. A shiver ran through his form constantly, indicating that he was already in hypovolemic shock. Elliot's eyes were half-closed and growing duller by the second, and his breath was coming in weak, hoarse gasps. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing enough air to satisfy his body.

"Jesus, what the hell happened?" George asked, moving to support Elliot. They struggled to carry Elliot's dead weight inside the apartment. "Elliot, can you hear me?"

"He's been unresponsive to my voice for the last few minutes, and he stopped helping to support his weight once we got to your door," Olivia explained.

"What happened to him?" George demanded, tugging on Elliot's arm and finally getting him to move his legs.

Elliot moaned softly, a sound that tore at George's heart. Gently, George murmured, "Shh, Elliot, you're going to be okay. Just lie down a second."

"I'm going to call an ambulance," he added to Olivia as they eased Elliot onto the sofa.

Frantically, Elliot shifted, clearly trying to convey something. Olivia turned to George and said, urgently, "We can't. The traffickers think Elliot died when they shot him, and we need to keep it that way- our cover's blown."

"Fuck." George almost never swore, but he felt justified at the moment. He turned his attention to Elliot again and removed his blood-soaked shirt, revealing a large wound between his stomach and chest. He began to apply pressure, eliciting a groan of pain from Elliot, and it was then that he realized the severity of the situation. He clenched his hands into fists and exclaimed, "So what are we going to do?"

"I just... whatever you can do, you need to," Olivia said.

George shook his head angrily. "I'm not a surgeon or a traumatologist, Olivia. If the bullet hit something, there's nothing I can do. I don't know if he has an internal bleed, I don't know if he needs the bullet removed or not. I don't even have the equipment to stitch the gunshot wound! Why did you bring him here of all places?"

"Like I said, we can't go to the hospital- that would have told them he was alive. Bringing him to you could just mean that an associate is going to help us cover this up," Olivia said.

Gritting his teeth, George ordered, "Get my first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom, and grab a blanket from the closet."

Olivia hurried to complete the task, and George leaned over Elliot. Stroking his eyebrow with his thumb, George whispered, "Elliot, can you hear me?" He grabbed Elliot's hand and gently squeezed it. "Squeeze my hand back if you can hear me."

Elliot's hand tightened around his own. Elliot's eyelids fluttered slightly, trying to reopen. "Shh, save your strength, Elliot," George soothed. "But do stay awake."

"Nnngh... c... can't... do it... doc..." Elliot gasped. The shivers intensified, making the sofa shake. "H... hurts..." he moaned.

"I know, Elliot, just hold on and keep fighting it. I'll think of something to help," George urged, wrenching his hand out of Elliot grip to press harder into the wound. "Stay with me, Elliot, stay with me!"

Elliot opened his eyes and looked right at him. He tried to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a loud exhalation; almost a sigh.

And then his eyes closed again and he went limp, slumping against the sofa.

"Elliot!" George yelled, panicked. "Elliot, wake up! Wake up!" George tapped his face a few times, but to no avail. Elliot's head lolled slightly to the side.

He pressed two quivering fingers to Elliot's jugular and took his pulse. It was thready, and so weak and irregular that it was barely there at all.

To his horror, George realized that there was every chance Elliot would die right there, before he could even begin to try and save him.

He kissed Elliot's temple intimately and vowed, "I will save you, Elliot. I'm not going to let you die."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! We appreciate them!

George started to think about what he could do, and where he could take Elliot. They couldn't keep him here. His heart clenched as he thought about it and soon he berated himself mentally.

"I'll be right back," he whispered, even though he knew Elliot wasn't conscious. He ran to the kitchen to wash his hands; he was going to have to clean the wound completely. Carefully, he took a paper towel to pat his hands dry and went back to Elliot.

"Olivia!" He shouted. What the hell was taking her so long?

Olivia was soon there with his first aid kit and blanket. "Sorry; I dropped the kit," she explained.

George nodded, knowing that both of them were going a little crazy at the moment. "I need the saline and the broad gauze. Just open the packages, and don't touch the gauze."

The detective opened them while George checked Elliot's pulse again. Still weak and erratic, but still there.

George took the items from her and noticed that both their hands were shaking, his more so than Olivia's. He quickly opened the saline and poured some on the gauze.

"Open some more. We're going to need it," he said. As he cleaned out the wound he could see Elliot's face twitch in pain. The doctor wished that he could do more for him; seeing Elliot in agony tore at his heart.

Soon he was overtaken by thoughts of where the bullet could be. He knew that it was too high to have hit the bowels. Elliot was breathing evenly and not coughing up blood, so that meant it hadn't hit the lung. There was still the possibility that it may have still hit something and caused a slow bleed. He also knew that if it had hit one of the descending veins or arteries, either the pulmonary or the aorta, Elliot would already be dead.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Why didn't I think of that before?" George said to himself.

"What?" Olivia asked.

The doctor put the used piece of gauze into the package before taking another. "I know someone who has a clinic. He's a cardiologist and he has almost everything necessary to examine Elliot- I need more gauze."

Olivia gave the gauze to him. George folded it and poured some saline over it, placing it over the wound and pressing down. Elliot flinched, and George eased off. He then put a dry piece over it. "Tape," he called.

The detective handed it to him and he taped the gauze down. "This will hold until we get there. It's not that far. Help me get him up," George instructed.

Olivia took one side, while George took the other. Olivia placed the blanket over Elliot's shoulders. Elliot was a complete dead weight, but George wasn't going to let that stop him.

They managed to get him out of the door and to the car. "Who's driving?" Olivia asked.

"I am. I need you to watch him and check for a pulse periodically," George said.

Olivia nodded and pulled open the back door and then she got in and pulled Elliot into the car, while George pushed. Soon the unconscious detective was in the car. "The keys?" Olivia asked.

"I left them in the ignition." The doctor rushed to the driver's side and got in. He turned the car on and took off.

"How's he doing?" George said as he honked the car horn angrily.

A groan came from the back seat.

"I think he's waking up," Olivia said.

The doctor sighed a little in relief, but they still weren't out of the woods yet. There was still the question of whether or not that bullet had caused internal damage. "Try to keep him awake. We're almost there," George said as he honked the horn again.

Soon George arrived at the building. He parked and got out, then he opened the back door and helped Olivia pull Elliot out of the car. The detective was semi-conscious when they took him into the clinic.

* * *

"George, what the hell is going on?" George's friend, Michael, asked as they walked in.

"I need some help, Michael. It's a gunshot wound and I need an x-ray immediately. I'll explain later," George said when he saw that the man was about to protest.

"Come on, then," Michael ordered.

They followed the cardiologist to the x-ray room. George exhaled sharply, thankful that Michael worked after-hours on Fridays- he always stayed a few hours late to take care of the office's paper work. If Elliot had to get injured at all, this was the best time for it to happen.

"Set him on the table," Micheal said as they entered the room.

They complied, and George started to help the doctor set up the x-ray machine.

"What are we dealing with?" Michael asked.

"A gunshot wound located between the chest and abdomen," George said. "I already cleaned it out. We couldn't take him to the hospital, but I want to be sure that there is no internal bleeding."

The doctor nodded. "If there is, he will probably have to be taken to the hospital anyway. I don't have all the tools here to do surgery. The most I can do is check and stitch him up."

George nodded. He was praying that the bullet hadn't hit anything; he had never felt so panicked in his life. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were still trembling slightly.

He wouldn't be able to take losing Elliot. His sanity wouldn't let him.

Micheal moved them behind the safety of the screen, and they stood there as the pictures were taken. After that was finished, George and Olivia helped Elliot to an exam room, while Micheal examined the x-rays.

George hovered over Elliot, who gave a small groan.

"I know, it hurts, but we'll get you something for the pain soon," George said, softly.

The exam room door opened to reveal Michael, who was carrying the x-ray and supplies to stitch Elliot up. George took the x-ray and held it up to the light.

"There is no internal bleeding at all," he said with a sigh of relief.

Olivia let out the breath she was holding, and George put down the x-ray to help Michael with the supplies.

"The bullet is fine where it is. There isn't any reason to take it out and it would probably cause unnecessary damage trying to get it out," Michael said as he pulled on a pair of gloves. "I need you to give him a dose of morphine. This is going to be painful."

George took a syringe and the bottle of morphine. He was sure that Elliot didn't need a large dose, but he didn't want to under-medicate either. Picking up an alcohol swab, he cleaned Elliot's arm and put the needle in. He then discarded the used needle.

Michael started the stitching the wound, and George could see that the morphine was taking effect; Elliot wasn't in as much pain. But from the looks of things, the relief wasn't complete.

The wound was soon closed, and Michael and Olivia walked out of the room to get some antibiotics and painkillers.

George gripped Elliot's hand, and he felt a soft squeeze back. "Still hurts," Elliot whispered, his voice cracking.

"I know. We'll be out of here soon and then you can get some rest." George said with a small, comforting smile.

The door finally opened, and Michael and Olivia came in. "Help me get Elliot up," George said. Michael got on the other side of Elliot, and this time Elliot was able to hold some of his weight.

George looked at him and could see the small grimace on his face. "Hang in there," George said soothingly.

They walked slowly to the car. This time George got into the back seat with Elliot. "Thank you," George said as Michael waved him off.

"It's nothing," Micheal said. "I gave you everything I have to stop infection, and some painkillers."

George nodded. Michael closed the door to the car, and George sighed before looking at Elliot, who was leaned against him.

"Told you I would save you," he said softly, not aware that the detective heard him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! We appreciate them!

Elliot drifted off again in the car; the combination of medication and non-lethal, but still significant, blood loss left him thoroughly exhausted.

George looked down at the man he cared for, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He couldn't believe how close he had come to losing Elliot. If the bullet had been a little closer, or if Elliot and Olivia hadn't been able to get to him in time, or anything else, it would have all been over. He almost felt sick thinking about it.

But Elliot was mostly safe, for now. He would have a long road to recovery, especially since he couldn't go to the hospital, but he was already on the mend, and he would make a full recovery, eventually. He had already started formulating a lot of Elliot's treatment plan in his head. Antibiotics, painkillers, and bed rest for a few days. Then he needed to start moving around to prevent a chest infection, and he would be on his feet a few days after that. George didn't think Elliot should return to the field for at least two weeks, though.

Getting Elliot to the point where he could walk around some more would be the hardest, because Elliot would be complaining not being able to do anything, and because George would have to tend to him- although that was part of what he liked best about this arrangement, too. He wasn't exactly complaining about being the one who would nurse Elliot back to health.

A sheepish grin appeared at the thought, but it was the truth; he did like the idea of taking care of him, maybe teasing him about his frustration at not being allowed to do anything strenuous. He chuckled silently and set a hand on Elliot's shoulder, rubbing absently.

A soft groan of mingled pain and pleasure escaped Elliot's slightly parted lips, causing George to remove his hand and murmur a guilty apology. "Sorry, Elliot. We're almost there."

"Is he okay?" Olivia called worriedly.

"He's still out of it; I think he just needs to rest," George replied. "I think we should wake him up and give him a painkiller when we get to my place, though."

"You'll have to wake him up anyway; I don't think we should be outside any longer than possible," Olivia said.

George nodded thoughtfully and said, "You two still owe me an explanation, you know."

"You'll get one, trust me," Olivia said, sighing in frustration. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white.

The rest of the ride was spent in soothing silence. George's eyelids were starting to droop by the time they arrived at his apartment.

"We didn't even spill his blood anywhere. Impressive," George remarked dryly as Olivia opened the door. He had been worried that they would have some awkward questions to answer when they got back, but from the looks of things, they were in the clear.

"Just wake him up," Olivia said thickly, stifling a yawn on the back of her hand.

George gently shook Elliot's shoulder and whispered, "Elliot."

"Hnnh?" Elliot questioned, opening his eyes a crack.

"We're here. We need to get you inside my apartment," George said, pushing Elliot up. "Then you need to take some pills and get some rest."

"Mm-hmm," Elliot hummed tiredly. His pupils were dilated, a side effect of the morphine.

"You're drugged right out of it," George observed, shaking his head slightly. Elliot wouldn't be able to support a large fraction of his body weight, but on the other hand, George would rather that than have Elliot still in agonizing pain. "Can you walk?"

"Don'... Don' think so..." Elliot said, shaking his head slightly.

"C'mon, then, Olivia and I will help you walk," George said, sighing softly.

"'Kay," Elliot murmured, grasping the headrest on the front seat to help him sit without George's help. He managed to get out of the car, and Olivia supported him until George had exited and closed the door.

Slowly, they walked inside, all of them feeling increasingly fatigued as they went. They quickly decided that George would stay in his own room, Elliot would take the guest bedroom, and Olivia would take the sofa.

George helped Elliot to the bed, fumbling to open the packet of pills while he did so. He eased Elliot down and covered him with a blanket, helping Elliot into a sitting position so he could take the pills.

Olivia handed Elliot a glass of water, and George gave him two antibiotic pills and one painkiller. Elliot swallowed them with some difficulty before leaning back and closing his eyes. Olivia silently exited the room, wanting to give Elliot some peace and quiet so that he could rest, and George stood to do the same.

But then, to his surprise, Elliot grasped his wrist and tugged insistently.

"Elliot?" George asked confusedly.

"Stay with me. Please?" Elliot asked. His voice was hoarse despite the empty cup of water.

"I'm going to get you some more water first- you need it, after losing so much blood- and then I'll be right back, okay?" George asked softly. "Can you stay awake that long?"

Elliot nodded and rasped, "But I need ask something first."

"Okay; go ahead," George said.

"What did you mean in the car? You said, 'Told you I would save you.'"

George blinked. "You heard me?" he asked incredulously. "But you were so out of it..."

"I still... I heard you," Elliot said, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his scratchy throat. "What did you mean?"

George could have told him everything, right then and there. A large part of him- the emotional side that he had suppressed for so long, the part that wanted to take care of Elliot- wanted him to. If Elliot requited his feelings, it would make him so happy.

But he didn't do it. He couldn't. This was _Elliot_- of course he didn't return George's feelings. Not to mention the fact that he had almost died. At the very least, George had to wait until Elliot was recovered. Elliot would be shaken for a while after this; even if he did return George's feelings, they had to wait.

And then there was the fact that he wasn't sure if they'd be able to adjust to a relationship together. They were at each other's throats at work; at home, they just might kill each other. He would be willing to take that risk under normal circumstances, but these weren't normal circumstances at all.

He wanted nothing more than to tell Elliot how much he loved him, but he knew this wasn't the time.

Inhaling deeply, George forced himself to say, "Nothing. I meant just what I said; I was worried that you were going to die, and I didn't want that to happen. I was saying how happy I was that you didn't."

Elliot scanned his face, but he couldn't find what he was looking for; George was a master at masking his emotions. Frowning dejectedly, Elliot asked, "So, you were just worried as a co-worker?"

Seeing the hurt in his eyes almost changed George's mind. Almost. But neither of them were ready for this yet.

Still, a half-truth wouldn't hurt. "Not just a co-worker... A friend. I want to be friends, Elliot, and I want to get closer to you outside of work."

"Oh," Elliot said, still looking disappointed, but slightly less so.

"I'm glad you're okay." George embraced Elliot tightly, hoping it felt like a friendly hug.

But Elliot Stabler didn't hug "just friends", especially male ones. He might hug women if they were like a sister to him- like Olivia- but he didn't hug men at all. And George knew it.

The fact that Elliot had feelings for him was surprising, and yet he had ached for a sign for so long that he wasn't surprised, as much as he was happy.

He allowed himself to stay in the embrace longer than was necessary. Then he pulled away and said, "Good night, Elliot."

"Night, Doc..." Elliot sighed sleepily, closing his eyes. He was out in seconds, his breathing becoming deeper and easier; relaxed, even.

"I love you," George whispered, once he was sure Elliot was asleep. "Soon, I'll tell you the truth. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** We're baaaaack! Sorry for the wait, thanks for your patience, and we hope you enjoy this chapter! Reviews are always appreciated!

* * *

George walked out of the room and looked at Olivia, who was sound asleep. He stifled a yawn and walked to his own room. He sprawled across the bed before sighing and turning on his back. He was so tired- tired, anxious, nervous, relieved, angry, he could go on.

This close, this close to losing him. It angered him that he could hardly do anything but bandage Elliot up. So what if he'd thought about Michael in time? What if he hadn't? His heart clenched. Elliot would have died, plain and simple, and the thought made him sick.

Elliot was okay, of course; he was in the guest room, the wound carefully stitched up, and he was resting. But he could just as easily be dead.

And if that wasn't bad enough, there was the hurt he had seen in Elliot's eyes when he'd said that he just wanted to be friends. That wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to tell Elliot everything. How much he loved him. How scared he had been when he opened the door to see Olivia holding him with blood on his shirt. How much he needed him.

But his mind told him that Elliot wasn't ready for that type of confession. Elliot might just be reacting to the fear from almost being killed by latching on to those close to him. He might end up doing something he, and by extension his loved ones, would regret later.

When Elliot was fully healed, he would have that conversation with him. After all, if what he'd seen from Elliot was anything to go by, his feelings were reciprocated. He just wanted to wait and make sure. He hadn't thought this would ever happen, and it made him feel incredible that Elliot even wanted to be more than friends. He had to get this right; everything had to be perfect.

George's eyes started to droop, and he turned over on his stomach. Later, he would sort through everything. And he was going to have to check on Elliot, but right now it was time for him to get some rest.

* * *

Elliot gave a small groan as he opened his eyes. He was still in pain, but it was so much better than before he had been given the medicine. He felt as if he had been hit by a tractor trailer. Maybe that would hurt less. God, he hated the feeling of being shot. It was part of his job, but still very unwanted.

He was lucky to still be alive after tonight. He owed everything to Olivia, George's doctor friend, and George himself.

George. Elliot cringed when he thought about George only wanting to be his friend. He wanted more. He should have known that the doctor wouldn't feel the same. Why had he ever thought he would? Elliot was supposed to hate him, hate everything about him. That's how it had been since they first met. And now it seemed like after all that time, George had started to agree. Maybe he didn't hate Elliot, but he didn't love him either.

That wasn't what Elliot wanted. He wanted George to be his in every possible way. He was beyond wondering why, wondering what it was about George that was so different from everything in the past. The fact was that it was there, and no amount of arguing with himself would change it. The only question left was what he was going to do about it... and that had been answered already.

It had been nerve-wracking, the first time he'd realized how deep his feelings for George ran. He had been through the "I'm not gay, I have kids, and had a wife" phase. Then there was the "I hate him so I'm going to fuck with him and make him miserable" phase. During that whole time he just let loose all his anger at the doctor, but he still had the feelings. He was just venting them in the easiest way- but it also hurt while he was doing it.

Then he had finally accepted it. He was attracted to a man, and there was nothing to do but wait for the attraction to go away or for his feelings to be returned. He had eventually accepted that it wasn't going to go away, and he had hoped that George would reciprocate, but now that opportunity was gone. The doctor wanted to be his friend. Great- he would rather them just argue and hate each other.

There was no way that he could be just friends. No way. He felt too much for such a platonic relationship. It made him feel like a jerk, but it would hurt too much, seeing him to go watch a baseball game or see a movie and knowing that that was as good as it was going to get. It had to be all or nothing- he wouldn't able to handle being stuck in the middle.

When he got better, he was going to thank George, but add that they didn't need to be friends. On good terms, acquaintances, but not true friends. There was no way he was going to torture himself.

Elliot shifted on the bed, wanting go back to sleep and forget everything for a while, but groaned in frustration when he realized that he had to go to the bathroom. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was so dry. He was pretty sure that no one would hear him if he tried to call for help. He felt so pathetic, even though he knew it wasn't a logical feeling, seeing as he had just been shot. But Elliot didn't do "taking help".

Elliot grimaced as he tried to sit up, and then he fell back to the bed. This was going to harder than he first thought. George was probably going to kill him for this, but he had to go. There was no way he was going to be able to hold it and he was not going to embarrass himself by urinating on the bed.

He tried to sit up again, and this time he succeeded. The grinding of teeth echoed through the quiet room as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was now feeling a bit dizzy, so he sat there for about a minute before he went to stand. He quickly grabbed the nightstand for support, and finally he was up on his feet.

Elliot took a tentative step forward, still gripping the nightstand tightly. He let go of the dresser and took a step by himself. As he did so, he felt pain shoot through his body, and he clutched his chest. That was really bad, he thought. He was starting to rethink his decision but his bladder seemed to scream at him that he was going to have an accident soon if he didn't continue. Opting to listen to it, he continued.

His steps were short as he tried to make his legs work. He leaned against the door of the guest bedroom before popping his head out into the hallway. There was a small part of him waiting for George to jump out of nowhere and scold him for being up. It didn't happen and Elliot sighed as he continued his painful journey to the bathroom.

Finally he was in the room. He leaned against the sink before he unzipped his pants and moved forward until he was over the toilet and he gave a small sigh of relief. When was done he turned slowly and started to walk to the door. Pain shot through his chest and his legs stopped cooperating with him. He tried to grip the sink but he felt too weak and his legs gave out. A pained yell echoed through the bathroom as he fell.

George shot up on his bed before he got off his bed and ran out of his room. He saw the light on in the bathroom and rushed towards it to see Elliot on the floor trying to get up. George carefully helped him up and Elliot placed most of his weight onto the smaller man.

George made to start walking, but Elliot commanded, raspily, "No, don't move." They stood there as Elliot shifted his weight off of George and grimaced. "Okay," he said, and George helped him back to the guest bedroom, at a snail's pace. George lay Elliot back down and checked the stitching of the wound before re-changing the bandage.

"What were you thinking?" George demanded, and Elliot set his jaw in defiance.

"I had to pee," Elliot said, voice still coarse.

George looked at him for a minute, then set his jaw and left the room, coming back with a glass of water. He held the cup as Elliot drank from it, and soon Elliot pulled away, relieved that his throat didn't feel dry anymore.

"You could have hurt yourself more," George said once Elliot was done. "You need to be careful."

"I'm fine," Elliot said, stubbornly.

The doctor frowned. "Damn it, Elliot, you've just been shot."

"You think I don't know that?" Elliot said angrily.

George glared at him. "Elliot, you could've ripped your stitches open or injured another part of your body," he said. "Can't you just accept that for once in your life, you can't just say, 'Oh, no big deal, I'm a Marine, everything's fine'? You aren't fine. You have a gunshot wound. It doesn't matter how tough you are on the inside, you can't just muscle through this one."

Elliot glared back at him. "Why the fuck do you care? You've never cared before, so why start now?" Elliot asked accusingly, not caring about the pain. The words didn't sound nearly as good as they had in his head- he sounded like a lovesick teenager. But that probably wasn't far from how he felt at the moment. He felt hurt and betrayed, and making George feel the same helped some.

George looked at him, shocked, and Elliot could see the hurt in the man's eyes. George looked away and opened his mouth, but then he shut it and turned away. He quickly left the room, leaving Elliot in silence.

"Fuck," Elliot said softly, looking at the ceiling. He had ruined everything, again.

* * *

George stood in his kitchen, leaning against the counter as his mind raced. He cared. He had always cared- there was never a time that he hadn't. True, it didn't always show in ways that others, especially Elliot, could understand, but... it still hurt to hear Elliot say that.

But he knew that he and Elliot had always had a very shaky relationship, despite the fact that he had cared. They argued all the time. He never tried to get to know Elliot on a personal level unless it was during a psych evaluation, and he certainly didn't use what he learned there outside of that room. Elliot had every reason to think George didn't care. The truth was that George was a very stoic individual- it was the way he had been raised- and that meant very few people ever got to see his true emotions, and even then, they were always carefully controlled. It was just who he was.

Maybe it was time for that to change. He couldn't do it overnight, couldn't just let his walls drop all at once, but maybe he could lower them just a little, just for Elliot. He needed to show Elliot how much he really cared, and sooner rather than later.


End file.
